


Another Kind of Teacher

by Twisted_Mind



Series: Hermione in Authority [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Angst, Cruelty, Drama, Exhibitionism, F/F, Female Character In Command, Femslash, Not Happy, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:19:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1603265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/pseuds/Twisted_Mind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Pansy's last lesson, she finds herself a willing student, but soon learns that what she seeks is not always what she will find . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Kind of Teacher

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted Oct 31st 2012 at HP Fandom. Betaed by GhostxWriter, and edited upon re-posting here. 
> 
> You Know the Drill: The characters? Don't own 'em. The setting? Don't own it. The Potterverse? I do not own. Therefore the below is highly unlikely to have happened, but, well ... I can dream

Pansy had once thought herself the consummate Slytherin--sneaky, cunning, and exempt from the rules. She had thought herself free to do whatever she pleased, whenever she pleased, and slippery enough that she never had to worry about the consequences. She had been wrong, and it had taken a run-in with a certain Gryffindor to prove it to her. That had been some months ago, and since then, Pansy had been a good little Slytherin, carefully treading the grey zone that lay between following and breaking the rules. Until now, that is.   
  
Because the truth was that Pansy couldn’t stop thinking about it.   
  
The last time Hermione caught her breaking the rules was something that haunted her waking hours, and crept into her dreams. It made her skin tingle and her cheeks heat, thinking of the way the Gryffindor had humiliated her. And yet, each time she replayed that night in her mind, Pansy felt the same raging heat shoot through her, causing her inner muscles to clench.   
  
It was what brought her here tonight.   
  
Tonight, Pansy had decided that she’d had enough; that if she was going to go mad with her sick desires, then the least Hermione could do was oblige her. Hermione _had_ started it, after all. And now Pansy wanted her to finish it.   
  
_Needed_ her to finish it.   
  
And it was that need that had forced Pansy from her bed tonight, compelling her to haunt dark corridors like a pale ghost. Under her cloak she wore her white nightgown and a satchel full of potions ingredients as she crept her way towards the abandoned classroom--the same one where she had been caught once before.   
  
She knew it was foolish.   
  
The last time she had tried something like this, Hermione had been a hair’s breadth from making a case to have her expelled. It had been nothing but luck that had saved her last time, and Pansy knew that she shouldn’t-- _couldn’t--_ expect or even hope for that kind of luck a second time.   
  
She couldn’t bring herself to care.   
  
All thoughts of the consequences, of her parents’ disappointment, of Professor Snape’s disapproval, of what the others in Slytherin would think, they were all pushed into a dark corner of her mind. Pansy would worry about that later, if and _when_ she actually did get caught. At the moment, what mattered most of all was slipping back inside the abandoned classroom, and getting into trouble, so that Hermione would have a reason to come back.   
  
The very thought made her heart pound.   
  
When she reached the familiar door to the unused classroom, Pansy swallowed dryly. Her pulse rapping a staccato beat under her skin, she eased the door open, and slipped inside. She closed the door carefully, softly, before she turned to gaze about the room. When she finally realized what she was seeing, her mouth opened and her lungs refused to draw breath.   
  
She wasn’t alone.   
  
Hermione was there. But it wasn’t the Hermione she wanted to see. The Hermione that Pansy wanted was the one she’d last found here--the one with eyes flashing in suppressed rage, with the fury of the righteously indignant bringing a lower, unworthy being to heel.   
  
_This_ Hermione . . .   
  
This Hermione lay sprawled across a conjured bed, her body painted in sinuous lines by the dim light of a few small candle flames. This Hermione was breathing in soft gasps, broken by little whimpers and carefully muted cries. This Hermione was soft the way the Pansy’s Hermione had been hard; beautiful and vulnerable where Pansy’s Hermione had been powerful and cruel.   
  
This was Cho’s Hermione.   
  
Cho: beautiful with her long, sleek black hair and honey-coloured skin. Cho, who was a Ravenclaw; intelligent and bookish and witty. Cho, who had always made the right decisions and followed the rules and stood by Potter.   
  
Cho--whose tongue was dancing over the flesh between Hermione’s legs.   
  
Pansy was frozen as she watched Cho pleasure the very woman that she had come here seeking. She wondered if it were possible for her to slip back out, unnoticed, when she realized that she had caught the eye of one of the room’s occupants. Pansy bit back a whimper,because it seemed this was Pansy’s Hermione, after all.   
  
It was evident in the look Hermione gave her, as she turned her head and levelled her gaze at Pansy. Hermione’s dark eyes were hazy with lust, but that couldn’t obscure the vicious amusement lighting them. If Pansy was left in doubt as to the Gryffindor’s true motivation, the cruel twist to Hermione’s smile erased any such uncertainty.   
  
Hermione kept her gaze on the Slytherin girl while she cried out her orgasm.  
  
When Hermione’s eyes closed and her body trembled in the afterglow, Cho rose and draped the coverlet over Hermione’s supine form, before she turned to face Pansy. When she did, Cho did the last thing that Pansy expected.   
  
Cho crossed the room, and kissed her.  
  
It was a harsh kiss, punishing in its force. Cho‘s fingers dug into the flesh of Pansy’s face as she sucked and bit at Pansy’s mouth. When she pulled away, the blonde ran her tongue over her split and bruised lips, tasting Hermione there. She gazed bewildered at the Ravenclaw.   
  
“Because that’s all of her you will ever have,” Cho said dismissively, turning her back on the Slytherin. Hermione rose from the bed, letting the covers fall from her body to stand gloriously bare. She opened her arms to Cho, who went into them eagerly, and kissed her. Pansy fled, feeling desperate and dirty, and utterly deprived.   
  
Hermione’s cold laughter followed her, ringing in her ears long after Pansy had fled back to the relative safety of the dungeons, and her dorm. It continued to ring, mockingly, as she lay in her bed and tried to sleep. That laugh went on and on in her head, tormenting her.   
  
Because every time she heard it, she desired Hermione all over again.   
  
  
  



End file.
